


Can You See Me Now

by FireflyKisses



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Action & Romance, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-02-17 21:58:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2324582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflyKisses/pseuds/FireflyKisses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sexual assault is not uncommon. Statistics say one in every three women will experience some form of molestation in their lives. In the lives of mutants it sadly becomes even more prevalent. When Logan's weekend of much deserved solitude on the road comes to an abrupt halt when Charles Xavier asks him to come to the rescue of an abducted mutant he is faced with the sad but common reality of mutant existence. What, however, could Mr.Sinister possibly want with the traumatized and unremarkable girl that he finds, and can he help her conquer the life of anxiety that her experience had thrust her into?</p><p>Just read it already XD</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Barely There

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends, I have this story posted on FF.net but am thrilled to share it elsewhere. I hope you'll give this tale a chance, as I've tried very hard to depict the very real and horrifying effects that rape and abandonment have on a woman. Obviously, I'm going to state here that there is much written within that some people who have experienced sexual trauma may find triggering. Please, read maturely. Also, if I have made any mistakes, please feel free to correct me. Thank you for your time! :)

The primal roar of Logans' Harley deafened all other sounds on the road. He had meant to get away from the school and take a road trip up into Canada via some back roads he had always loved to travel. Just because he had taken on a job at Xaviers school didn't mean that the lone wanderer within him had died. The weekends were his own and jealously guarded, and once all classes were out on friday afternoon, his bike got gassed up and he was gone, given in to his wanderlust. Always however, he was back before classes on Monday morning.

Maybe he had mellowed out some as he'd gotten older, a thought that gave him no pleasure. The Wolverine was not a home body. Life before the school used to be lived on the road. He'd have all he owned bungee corded to the bitch seat of his ride in a duffle bag, feeling that the more road he put behind him, the closer his lost memories might become. Time had proven that notion to be flawed but by then it had become too entrenched. As the years passed by and he was no closer to finding what was missing, life seemed all the more monotonous and aggravating. He began doing what he did best.

Being an animal.

He had cared only about fulfilling his instinctive needs. Food, some hard drink, the pleasure of the occasional woman, but the most difficult desire to fill was his lust for violence. Cage matches, even when he let his opponent take a few decent shots at him never satisfied him, though the money was good. Pain, feeling his skin split and pummeled, even if seconds later it would just mend itself, was a welcome sensation. It made him feel alive! It was the closest he could get to what he wanted. And what he wanted, was a challenge.

The challenge eventually came, but not in the way he would have dreamed. Those kids. Xaviers kids. Each one of them in a world that hated them and struggling through the most pivotal years of their lives. Some were without homes, families, support, saved through the generous charity of the most empathetic man he'd ever known. Xavier did care for all of humanity, but particularly for mutant kind. When Xavier brought him face to face with this disturbing product of mutant prejudice, the lost ones of their kind, that long ignored softness in Logan's iron hard heart was appealed to. He had never really been a fan of being around kids on a regular basis, but they were a weakness of his. He could relate to them. Their uncertainty and confusion, their need for direction so closely mirroring his own search for his past.

He didn't remain there, not right away, but he kept finding himself coming back, in part thanks to an alluring redhead that had been among those early students. She was an adult now, and had married that blasted Scott Summers and both had stayed on as staff members to pass on the kindness they had received and to make a difference in the world as X-men. What eventually made him stay was seeing that his time spent with those kids, teaching them how to fight and become strong, had made a real difference in their lives. They could go out into the world knowing how to defend themselves. It was odd to discover that he felt a deep sense of pride over it, and somehow, those kids who had done all they could to avoid his lessons and groaned over their field training, had come to love him.

After the first batch of kids graduated, he decided to stay on and continue teaching them. He was a hard instructor, gruff and overbearing, but the results couldn't be argued. Those kids were no longer children, but strong, capable adults. Thanks greatly to his efforts.

He wasn't quite sure how things had changed over the years, but Xaviers School for Gifted Youngsters was home now.

But he was still the Wolverine, and the Wolverine needed the freedom to be who he was. He wanted to hit the bars, play some pool, breathe some fresh mountain air and maybe have a steamy tryst with some random redhead. He also had a pocket full of cigars he intended to make use of, still grumpy by Charles no smoking in the mansion rule.

At least that was what he had meant to happen this weekend.

He had nearly gotten to Messena, only a stones throw from the border with the Adirondaks on his heels when his cell phone began buzzing at his hip. He fully intended to ignore it, but after a few seconds reprieve, it sprang to life again ... and yet again.

Cursing in agitation, he pulled his bike over with a screech and killed the engine, snapping the phone from its strap and momentarily struggled with attempting to accept the call. Stupid contraption!

"Okay, what?" He barked, making no effort to hide his aggravation.

Xaviers voice on the other end of the phone seemed unbothered by his venom, and began calmly. "I'm sorry to disturb you Logan, I know how you enjoy your weekends away from the school, but something urgent has come up and you just happen to be in the vicinity."

X-men business, Logan thought with a smirk. "Tell me it requires a heavy hand. I have some energy I wanna work off."

"It very well may come to that, but I stress the need for care. A mutant's life may be in the balance." The voice on the other end said gravely. "If you recall the last meeting I gathered of the X-men, I shared that there were many unauthorized hacks into the mutant registry files, particularly concerning dna samples taken?"

Logan frowned, recalling it with vivid clarity. That damned mutant registry. Mutant kind had won out in the sense that not all mutants had to register once the act was passed, but if a mutant were arrested, or had to file anything via the authorities, if they were mutant, they were forced into registry. A mutant couldn't call the cops for a noise complaint without being forced into registration. The latest stereotype about mutant kind was that a registered mutant was a dangerous mutant, but it simply was farce. Just more ignorance on a grand scale.

"Yeah, what of it Chuck?" He answered, fishing a cigar out of his pocket. He began to chew the end, patting the breast of his jacket for a lighter.

"Forges plan to discretely monitor the registry has paid off. We received an alert last night. A vast amount of files were open, but one was downloaded." Hearing the concern in the Professors voice, Logan refrained from asking the obvious question. Why was a downloaded file such a big deal? His question was answered in the Professors next statement. "I was able to locate her on Cerebro, Logan. She's in the custody of Nathaniel Essex, and from the distress I sensed from her, it is very much against her will." Wolverine felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. was the most inhumane conscienceless demon of a mutant he'd ever encountered. He took sadistic delight in capturing mutants, obtaining their dna, and had an unhealthy fixation with telepaths. He remembered the rage and disgust he'd felt over the monster when he'd wanted to turn his experiments to focus on Jean! Sensing Logans turn in thought, the Professor assured, "Jean is safe, and from what I can discern his interest is far removed from her at this time. He has obviously been searching the data files of registered mutants looking for something in particular. Only a few were telepathic in nature. There seems to be no link between mutant powers and the mutants he's targeting."

"Were any other files downloaded?" Logan asked, suddenly remembering the cigar in his mouth and at last finding his lighter to light it.

"No, this girl was the only one downloaded. I have made a copy of her file. I've already sent it to your phone via email. I also sent you the location where I sensed her and Essex."

Well, that explained the dual rings he'd had earlier. He'd assumed that Charles had called twice. Apparently one was an email alert. Pulling the phone from his ear, he checked briefly to see he indeed had a new email. He frowned as he took a long draw of spicy smoke off of his cigar. He hated this damned thing. His fingers were too large to hit the tiny buttons and he hadn't even learned to fumble around with computers yet, never mind the tiny one he held in his hand. He replaced the device to his ear. "Okay, I see it."

"I need for you to go there and free her. She's only recently gotten her powers Logan, she likely doesn't even know any degree of control yet. She's afraid and confused. We need to get her out of there and if possible, bring her to the school for help."

A new mutant stuck with Sinsiter? Great. He really wasn't the right fit for this job. Someone gentler and more tactful with social grace would have been better. Like Jean, or even someone like Hank, but not him. He was too brusque and rough around the edges and he'd probably traumatize the poor kid before the day was up. He thought a moment. A new mutant would probably put her at only 13 or 14 years of age, which was the average age for burgeoning mutants to discover their abilities. Damn damn damn, this wasn't a good fit!

"Look Chuck, I'm all for helping, but I'm not exactly the soothing type for a hysterical kid-"

"I would normally send someone else, yes Logan, but you are only a half hours drive from where she's being kept, you'll be able to get to her and get her out of danger the fastest. Given this is Sinsiter we are dealing with, you cannot argue that time is a factor. Please, Logan, this is urgent."

The Wolverine gave a soft snarl as he resigned himself to this. If he was lucky, at least, he may be able to sink his claws knuckle deep into that pale skinned bastard.

"Fine." He relented. "Anything else?"

"I've told you all we know at this time. All we know of her is in the file I sent you. Check it and get moving quickly. And thank you Logan."

"Yeah, sure..." He said before hanging up, once more cursing his large fingers as he fumbled to do so.

It took him a minute to figure out how to get to the file, and was irritated to learn it was as simple as tapping the screen on the file link that Charles had sent. The file that came up surprised him.

This was no child as he had initially thought. It was an 18 year old girl, a young woman who had mutated only four months ago! He read the file as quickly as he could, knowing he had to hurry up and get back on the road. The first few details were simple. Her name was Olivia Fitzgerald, straight brown hair, 5 foot 5 inches tall, white, female, the usual profile song and dance. He skipped over schooling information and religious affiliations, bored to tears at just glimpsing the topics. Mutant abilities his eyes zeroed in on. Only one was listed. Invisibility. The file also mentioned a lack of control over it, to the degree that a photograph wasn't even provided, as was usually a custom in the registry entries. He snorted in agitation. Dammit a picture would have been useful in locating her. The previous details about her appearance suddenly took on much more importance. Next was page after page of what was labeled 'genetics', and tons of science mumbo jumbo that he didn't have the patience to try and figure out. He then came across an entry labeled Reasons for Registry. He started skimming it, and slowly, a feral growl rumbled deep in his chest.

Parents brought 17 year old girl into police station after discovering their child had vanished from sight. Subject invisible but not intangible. Parents insisted on registry. When questioned, the girl accused three classmates of molesting her to be the reason for the transformation, but these claims cannot be proved or disproved. Subject stubbornly insisted that she could not revert back into sight for photographs to be taken. For refusal to cooperate with authorities, girl was kept in custody overnight before being released back to her parents the next day. Subject left headquarters still invisible. Whereabouts, now unknown.

The information was vague, but painted a painful picture of what the kid must be going through. He didn't know to what extent the girl was molested, or why her parents had brought her to the police station to be registered instead of filing a report against those boys or even bringing the girl to a hospital for help, but the scenario in his mind wasn't a pleasant one. Already it was his understanding that three boys had taken advantage of her, and the experience had been traumatic enough to trigger her dormant x-gene. He was no stranger to the stories of what registering was like. He had no doubt that her claims were swept under the rug and ignored for the simple fact that she was a mutant.

It was sad, but her situation wasn't unique. So many mutants had been triggered from acts of abuse and met with an utter lack of empathy. It was what often made mutants bitter and even more dangerous. He knew now why the Professor felt such urgency to get to her and help her. He didn't want her to be among the jaded ranks of mutant kind, an all too easy place to find oneself in such a callous world.

After glancing at the coordinates Chuck had sent, he replaced his phone on his hip and brought his bikes engine back to life. With a squeal of his tires, he made a u-turn and rocketed off in the right direction. He knew where this place was. On the other side of Messena through the thick of the town was a few abandoned warehouses by the train tracks. If Sinister had acquired her locally, it was an ideal place to keep her until he could move her to one of his many facilities.

If her abilities were as under developed as her file made them seem, then she would be helpless to defend herself. With the wind lashing at his face and tousling his hair and overgrown sideburns, he felt himself smirk. Well that's what he was for, wasn't it? He'd taken on the role of protector for those kids at the mansion on many occasions, threatening, attacking, and even killing anyone who dared to try and bring harm to them. And as an X-man, he was no stranger to a dangerous mission. If this kid needed someone strong to stand between her and Sinister, then he was the man for the job!

The question still remained nagging at him, however. What could Nathaniel Essex possibly want with a new mutant who's only ability was to be invisible? Jean he could understand, being a powerful telepath and a formidable opponent with, what Essex had declared, superior genetics. Maybe it was within all those pages of DNA and genetic codes that he didn't understand. He huffed. That was a job best left to Hank to figure out. His job right now was to get to the girl and get her to safety, simple as that, then he could get back to his road trip.

By the time he reached the area in question, only 20 short minutes had passed. He pulled alongside a local building, killed the bikes engine, and stuffed that infernal cell phone into the duffel bag on the back of his bike. The last thing he needed was for it to go off while he tried to stealthily make his way through the buildings. He took off his jacket and draped it on his seat as well, leaving him in his white wife beater and dog tags.

Armed only with the claws in his hands he began to make his way towards the warehouses. His body was slightly crouched as he moved, like a spooked animal wandering into territory that was not his own. His nose twitched constantly, carefully filing away all the scents he detected. As of right now, it was his nose that was leading him.

There was warm sun-heated concrete, an old spill of gasoline, dandelions thriving in the cracks of the asphalt ... Nothing out of the ordinary for a place like this. He even smelled the evidence of stray cats in the area, the spray of toms in particular. This was going to take patience, and Logan had never been a very patient man. He scanned the area for evidence of human activity, but found none around this building. He moved on to the next, and instantly he began to smell things that made his brow lift in confusion. He smelled people, some he was familiar with and knew should not be here. Amidst it, was that cold clammy smell of decay, pungent, but somehow alive. Sinister! He bit back a growl, trying to remain silent as he found a door. He sniffed the handle. Again, many scents, none of them good. He listened carefully. Silence. He reached for the handle, and gave it a try. Locked, but no door was ever truly locked to the Wolverine!

The claws on his right hand came out with a ringing 'shnct' sound, and he shredded the door at the latch, tearing through wood and metal alike as though it were mere paper! It swung open to admit him entrance, and with a glance to be sure the coast was clear, he crept inside.

It was an old lumber mill, smelling strongly of wood chips and mold. He grimaced, realizing it was black mold, the dank environment a massive breeding ground for the toxic spores. It was overwhelming his nostrils, which flared as he tried to pick up any scent that might belong to the girl. Seeing nothing in the immediate area, he moved to a corridor and crept down it. Through the veil that was hindering his senses, he began to detect those of living beings, but they were confusing. He smelled something that was like Scott Summers, but it was wrong. All wrong. There was also-

"Sabertooth!" He snarled, instinctively unsheathing his other set of claws and readying himself, but on the next inhale, he decided that that scent was wrong too. It was his nemesis, but it wasn't...

Something odd was going on here...

Then, carried on a draft, there was something sweet. Like brown sugar and vanilla. And salt. He frowned as he tried to narrow in on it. That smell was one of tears, and a lot of them. It had to be the girl. For him to smell it at this distance that kid had to have been crying pitifully for a long while.

He knew with how feint the scent was that it couldn't possibly be coming from this hallway. He followed it to the end and came across stairs. They were metal and from the creeping orange color that tainted the shiny metal, it was obvious that the neglected staircase was succumbing to it's damp environment. He frowned deeply. How in the world would these flimsy stairs support his metal clad skeleton? To think his own immense weight was what stood between him and rescuing this girl! It was an infuriating road block. Made worse was the fact that it could obviously support the weight of the average man. It took only one slight flare of his nostrils to tell him that this was the much traveled path to the area used upstairs. He had no choice but to chance it.

He cautiously put his boot on the first step, trying his weight on it. The step whined a high metallic pitch in protest, and he winced. That was too loud, and he worried for a moment that maybe it had alerted the occupants of the warehouse to his presence. He had to hurry! He dug his claws into the wall beside the stairs, and used his own strength to ease the burden of his weight on the steps. Using this method, he was able to reach the top platform in front of the second floor doorway.

He listened carefully to the sounds beyond. There was a slow loping gait that was moving away from the doorway to the left. He waited until the sound was feint and distant before trying the door, finding it open. No one was to be seen, but those footsteps were still present. He took a quick sniff of the air around him. Where was that scent of vanilla and brown sugar? He knew that was what he had to zero in on. His nose brought him right, and he made haste to a hallway adjoining the room he was in.

There were a few rooms with closed doors, in one of them, they had to be keeping the girl. He tried the first door in the corridor, ready to fight if need be, but the room was empty. He tried the next one with the same results, but this room smelled stronger of the vanilla and tears, yet remained empty. His brow lowered. She had been here, the smell still fresh. He wandered into the dark room, getting a strong whiff of the smell within. This was the scent he had to zero in on. He found it pleasant, not too overpowering as some women used their perfumes. He strode to the center of the ill lit room, finding the smell strongest in the right corner. He cautiously approached it, his boots scraping slightly against the linoleum, when he heard a soft shuffle, and he froze, eyes darting about.

The room wasn't empty.

"I ain't gonna hurt you kid." He rumbled quietly, slowly retracting his claws to punctuate his words. Dammit, he just wasn't good at this! If he could see her, he would have hauled her over his shoulder and gotten her the hell out of there and made nice later, but not being able to lay eyes on her that method was impossible! He listened hard for any sound at all, trying to hear her breathing, but she was utterly silent. He took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. Whether or not they had time for this didn't matter. He had to make her come out of hiding on her own. "Olivia, I'm here to get you out of here. You don't want to be in this place, right?"  
More silence met his straining ears, but beyond the room, deep in the warehouse, he was hearing footsteps approaching. His patience was dwindling, looking towards the door with his hands clenching in agitation. When he did, he heard her take a breath, coming from the right corner of the room that he had been advancing on. It was an odd gasping sound. Had she been holding her breath all this time just to remain silent? He quickly approached the corner where the sound and scent came from, and knelt down, searching with his dark eyes, but seeing nothing.

"I want to help you, but I can't do that if you don't let me!" The steps were growing closer, and more hurried, their time running out with each passing second! Voices joined them, and he cursed under his breath. He reached forward, and his hand came into contact with warm, soft flesh. A shoulder, he realized in relief. Gently, he tried to coax her to her feet, but was met with resistance. His hand moved down and came against ropes wrapped around her, and something else. He frowned. "Can you stand?"

There was no reply for a second, and then, came a thinly voiced reply that spoke of hours of tears. "No, I'm on a chair..." Never happy to hear a lady sound so broken, Logan felt his heart go out to her, but it was overshadowed by urgency. It looked like his desire for a fight was impending and his only disappointment was that he couldn't liberate Olivia before it happened. At least she couldn't get spooked and run off on him!

Logan straightened up and faced the door with his arms held out, ready to slaughter whatever came at him. His arms twitched as the triplet blades split his skin and came free of his body. The pulse of his blood thrummed in his ears excitedly, eyes harrowingly narrow as they focused on the open doorway, on his approaching prey!

The area behind him rustled, and he became aware that the girl was struggling desperately where she sat, a pained whimper resonating in her chest. He might not have known what was coming, but she apparently did!

When that abomination appeared in the doorway, a hulking and loping beast that smelled and looked like sabretooth with the glowing red eyes of Scott Summers, Wolverine found that he didn't blame the girls fright. It, as he could hardly call this misshapen mass a human, was twice his size easily, naked and covered with wiry hair and a ploom of white from his chest over his shoulders. The thing sneered at Logan revealing sharpened canines and sprayed spittle from his tongue as it roared intimidatingly!

Unphased, Logan stood steadfast against the towering monstrosity and roared right back with a viciousness to rival it! He'd gone up against mutants and beasts bigger than him on plenty of occasions and came out the victor, this would be no different! They stared each other down, and he chuckled.

"And I thought Creed was ugly." For a moment, he thought it a rather fun twist that he'd get a chance to dig his claws into what appeared to be a genetic mix of his two least favorite people! Another genetic experiment of no doubt! "Let's see if you're as tough as the real thing!"

The beast charged, and Logan, smaller, but quicker, leapt over it with ease, twisting in the air and digging his claws into his shoulder to stop himself on his opponents back. Savagely, he tore into the flesh and muscle tissue, gouging out chunks of meat like a shovel in dirt! He had to inflict as much damage as possible as quickly as possible. If this thing was indeed part Victor Creed, it would have a healing factor, and the more damage he did, the more time it would take for the wounds to close!

Animalistic screeches of pain bellowed through the room as the massive creature tried to get a hold of the man tearing away its back, throwing itself this way and that with arms bent over its shoulders trying to reach the source of its pain! Finally, when it realized it simply wasn't limber enough to grab at him, it slammed it's back into the wall repeatedly, trying to crush the smaller man! Logan let out a cry of pain as his metal bones buckled, but held fast, but again and again the crushing blows continued. Inwardly, he smirked feeling that motivating torrent of pain! It was on now!

The girl began to scream, a sound that struck Logan at his most primal level! Through the pain of being crushed, he heard the fear and worry. She saw him as the man who could save her, and not knowing of his impressive regenerative qualities, she saw her hopes being dashed before her eyes! Well, she was going to be in for quite a surprise then, wasn't she?

The assault ended, and he fell limp to the floor, still moving like an insect half crushed by a boot. His shoulder popped back into place with a loud crack, and the countless abrasions and split skin began to thread themselves closed. He got to his hands and knees, looking at his opponent. It was on it's hands and knees, breathing labored as its own injuries fought to heal, but being so extensive, it was slow in coming. The victor would be the one who healed first!

Logan got to his with unsteady slowness, earning an amazed gasp from his audience. He rolled his head, cracked his neck, and smirked as he began to straighten up, standing tall and now fully healed. This thing didn't have the advantages of a metal skeleton. All he had to do was take off its head and it was done!

"Hey kid, if you can concentrate on getting yourself visible, that'd be great! Kinda hard to rescue ya if I can't see ya!"

He was striding confidently towards the hunched beast, his claws dripping with its blood and ready to sever its head from its shoulders. It was a task he was seconds from completing when its head tossed to look up at him with a red inferno brewing in its eyes!

"Shi-" Logan barely cursed before the full thrust of the optic blast hurtled him back from the genetic hodge podge and into the rooms furthest wall! It caved inward in a crater upon impact, dry wall falling in chunks as he slumped to the floor with a pained grunt. Well, that didn't feel good, he thought with a throaty growl, trying to bite back his cries of pain as the skin reformed on his head and his left eye regenerated. That had been a dumb mistake and it was costing him valuable time! That damn beast was going to heal before him at this rate and then what would happen to that kid? He opened his good eye and lowered his hand from his blasted skull, the gleam of the adamantium beneath the blood and tattered flesh slowly but surely disappearing from view as he healed. His eye was still gone, but he had the pain to fuel him!

With a savage bellow, he charged again! The creature was getting up, continually firing blast after blast at Logan, but he would not make the same mistake twice! He rolled and dodged each, all the while gaining on it, and then, when he was within distance to attack, the creature thrust out a hand. It was there one second, and then, it was gone, twitching on the floor! Shocked and in pain, it grabbed its severed wrist, affording Logan the opportunity to plunge his claws up through its jugular! It shuddered in its dying throes, lips sputtering blood before Logan expertly twisted the trio of knives, separating head from neck. It instantly fell down dead.

He took a moment to catch his breath, his pectorals and broad shoulders heaving. It would be a few more seconds before his burning wounds closed completely, and he didn't want to look towards the girl and risk her seeing more gruesomeness. For him, such sights were nothing, familiar even, but this had to have been hard for her to witness being so young and green. Feeling his scalp tingle, he blinked both eyes, his vision blurry for a moment and then crystal clear. Healing was done.

He turned, hoping to see that Olivia had managed to become visible, and was pleased to see that indeed, a girl tied to an old office chair was sitting in the corner of the room. Her shoulders were hunched, leaning forward in her chair, and her long brunette hair, having been falling loose from a poorly tied ponytail, hung haphazardly around her face. Her arms were bound behind the chair and her ankles to the bottom.

She was watching him with uncertainty, her breathing slightly labored. It was anxiety, he assumed. The recognizable aroma of it was coming off her like the leaves off a maple in the fall. There was also a visible tremble to her frame. She had helped him by becoming visible at least. So obviously, in spite of her fear, she wanted his help.

He moved close to her chair, holding up his hands to signal he meant her no harm. "Easy kid," He said, trying his best to be soothing.

"I'm going to cut you loose, then we're going to make a run for my bike. I'm going to take you somewhere safe where these guys won't be able to reach you." Her wide expressive eyes followed him warily through a part in her pin straight locks, and as he was about to slice the ropes off of her, his gaze caught hers.

He paused, letting his dark brown gaze meet her own and holding it fast. Being so close to her, there was no way he was mistaken. Her eyes were a very vibrant, very noticeable shade of violet. It wasn't entirely unusual, many mutants tended to have an altered eye color after blooming. Gambit had red eyes, Jeans were the brightest green he had ever seen, but this was the first time he'd seen purple for himself, though he was entirely sure there were others out there. He found it surprisingly nice, the detail adding something quite alluring to a young woman who otherwise looked pretty average.

It did make him take a better look at her though. She wore a pair of very well worn in jeans, tears in the knee from continuous use, and her tank top was purple with a layer of black lace covering it. He wasn't sure, but they might be two different shirts entirely, but he was sure that the garment was very flattering to the curve of her breasts, which were large enough to slightly overlap the ropes that were wrapped around her ribcage. What could he say, he was a man, and men took notice of these things. On her feet were a black pair of boots that made him crack a smile. Harley Davidson riding boots. Hers had seen a lot of love judging from the scuffs they suffered, and he found himself wondering if it was a reflection of her style or a hint to a pastime he could appreciate. He didn't ask.

Instead, he unsheathed a claw and slowly so as not to frighten her, slipped the blade into the back of the chair, splitting each twisted fiber of the ropes carefully from behind. He could have easily taken a quick slice to them from the front, confident that not only would the restraints be shredded, but the girls skin would be perfectly unblemished from it. That wouldn't of course, do much to ease her anxiety, would it? Even going slow as he was, she was rigid as a plank.

This couldn't continue. He knew he was a savage and she had every right to hate him for the bloody spectacle he had subjected her to but he was also here to help her, dammit, not tip toe around her delicate sensibilities!

He brushed the ruined ropes off of her and in his no nonsense way, said, "Look, I know you've gone through hell and I'm a big scary guy who just got pretty bloody, but you need to focus on getting the hell out of here, you hear me kid?"

She didn't move from her chair, still as stone, but her eyes were very solidly fixated to his woefully. The girl was hesitant to come with him, her face pale and hands restlessly grasping the edge of the chair with white knuckles.

He lifted up his hand, retracting the claw he'd used to free her. "Is it these?"

She shook her head mutely, and he surprisingly felt himself relieved by the answer. Too many people had been instantly put off by the claws in his life, and in this situation, he was relieved to know that wasn't going to be another brick in the wall keeping him from getting her to safety.

"Is it that?" He asked, pointing to the dead monstrosity bleeding out in the middle of the room. Again, she shook her head in the negative. That surprised him as well, knowing he hadn't held back and had been certain he'd scarred her for life doing what he had.

Maybe she was made of tougher stuff than he thought.

He felt stuck, and her inability to just open her mouth and just tell him what was going on was driving him nuts! Exasperatedly, he growled "Well, if it's not me rippin some guy apart in front of you, then why won't you let me-" He stopped suddenly, the words on her registry file suddenly springing to mind with crystal clarity. He groaned a little, hating that he hadn't pieced it all together sooner. Much more gently this time, he asked, "Is it because I'm a man?"

Her eyes grew a bit wider, obviously surprised that he had come to that conclusion. How could he, after all, have known what had happened to her? He had known her name though, so maybe someone who had known all of that had sent him.

In answer, her eyes instantly brimming with moisture, she gave a little nod.

Poor kid, he thought, careful to keep his hands on his knees and away from her. He nodded a little, understanding what the problem was now. Quietly facing her, he assured, "I promise I won't touch you, not even to lead you out of here, unless you give me the okay." He offered his hand to her, leaving it up to her whether or not she would put her own into it. "Come on kid," He coaxed, "You can trust me."

She looked at his hand, sucking her lower lip between her pearly white teeth.

"Do you believe me?"

Her eyes flitted from his hand to his eyes, those dark earnest eyes that had been feral and untamed just five minutes previous, were now regarding her with warmth and sincerity. Who was this man who was capable of murder one moment and such tenderness the next?

Nervously, she nodded in the affirmative.

"Then take my hand, and let me get you out of here."

Olivia's gaze didn't waver from his this time, no more apprehension or uncertainty. This man could help her, and was willing to do so.

She put her hand into his, and held it tightly.


	2. Glimpse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan finds the girl Mr. Sinister has abducted but earning her trust may be harder than he ever thought possible.

Life used to be pretty simple. Olivia would get up, go to school, stay late with her chorus instructor for voice lessons, go home, do homework and go to bed, and repeat. Family life was pretty good too. They went to church, went to movies, had dinners at the kitchen table in the evenings, everything the ideal American family was supposed to have. Sure, they didn't always approve of her staying late with her vocal instructor, but no family was without their squabbles after all, and if that was the worst of it, she'd heartily consider herself blessed.

Besides, she had always been a good kid. She'd stayed out of trouble, never fell into the wrong crowd, hell, she'd had few friends at all. She thought that even if bad things happened, she had a family who could work through it, a supportive household and her beloved maestro! It was all she had needed in the world, and she had put such naive blind faith in it that she never even wondered about the future being anything but bright. She would graduate high school, go to a college for the arts, hone her voice and artistic abilities, and then take the stage and Broadway by storm! At least if she could work through her embarrassment of performing in front of others ...

Fate, she decided, had a very cruel and depraved sense of humor. There was only one thing in the world that she knew of that would turn her family up side down. Her father was very political, and his passionate support of the likes of Trask- when she was a child- and more recently, Senator Kelly, borderlined on fanaticism. Their lawn had been decorated by more than one very opinionated picket signs in favor of things like mutant registration, mutant control laws and protocols, and even 'Senator Kelly for President'. The one thing she knew that could effectively divide her family was if a mutant emerged among them.

She had always thought it was a stretch to imagine it! After all, there were far more humans than there were mutants, outnumbering them so heavily that the mutant minority hardly ever felt like a problem to her despite what the news reports claimed. But she had been wrong. Oh so very very wrong.

Olivia shuddered against the ropes in her seat, trying to push away the poisonous memories that clawed ravenously at her sanity. She did all she could not to think of that miserable day and the unending torture it had plunged her into, but her mind would not be deterred from it, seemingly set on reliving each agony filled second as often as possible. She still felt the bruising grasp of those boys on her as they drug her behind the library, three sets of hands groping her, clawing her, and greedily stealing any innocent wonder her body had to offer. Even if her mind tried not to, her body remembered it all, and once more, it responded with revulsion. She dry heaved, but with her stomach so empty, nothing could come up but a sob.

How long had it been sinse she had eaten? Two days? Three? God she was so hungry, but even if they had given her food and the free hands to consume it, she'd be too afraid to partake of it. She didn't trust this man and his hulky 'pet'. As it was she had been plucked off the streets by a huge hairy monster with glowing red eyes and thrown over his shoulder as though she were nothing more than some parcel. She had screamed, and that had been her first mistake. He'd thrown her to the ground, lifted her by her hair, and hit her in the back of the head so hard that her world instantly went black!

When she awoke, she was in this musty cold room and bound tightly to this old office chair. Her ankles fared well thanks to her boots, but her wrists felt miserable and raw, numb from the tightness. She also noticed that there were several puncture wounds on her arm, looking suspiciously like those of a needle. As soon as she realized the kind of danger she had to be in she was concentrating on vanishing, not caring how long it would be until she was visible again. If whoever had done this to her couldn't see her, they couldn't stab her with any more needles. Her cheeks were wet, and continuously fresh hot tears trickled down her cheeks and neck. She wouldn't make a sound, and keeping the sobs of despair safe in her chest made her tremble relentlessly. They never once stopped.

Olivias struggle with her mutant powers was ongoing. From the first day she disappeared she had been straining to learn the secret to controlling it, but seeing as fate had demented plans for her, it would be an entire month spent in invisibility before she discovered that her powers had a very unusual trigger.

She gasped, eyes freezing upon the doorway to her prison as she heard footsteps! As a musician she found they were odd in their tempo and nothing like the gait of a normal human being. Each footfall was lumbering and heavy and as they grew closer, she could also make out heavy throaty breathing. Her breath caught in her lungs as she watched the slim sliver of light under the door fluctuate as a shadow moved in front of it. She prayed fervently, Please no, please God, don't let him come in here again! I swear I will do anything, just please- The footsteps passed her by and she shakily exhaled, fluttering some of her loosened locks against her cheek. She sniffled, some more hot tears scalding her cool face.

The hours ticked by slowly but she learned that the passerby was someone guarding the area and specifically the room where she was kept. Every few minutes he passed by again, never entering but always seemingly present. Time continued to pass this way, until a different set of footfalls stole her attention, the other more familiar set joining the other in front of her doorway. It opened, admitting the beast who had abducted her and-

All color drained from her face and her stomach twisted painfully in her belly! A man she didn't recognize entered the room, looking more like a vampire lord than any human being. His skin was chalky and white, and his hair a dark oil slick combed back from his face, revealing a red pinched diamond shape on his forehead, a shape that he also wore emblazoned on his leather clothing, ploomed strips coming from the collar. It was his eyes however that disturbed her the most. They had no pupil or iris, looked like pools of freshly bled blood and as lifeless and cold as a sharks.

Even though she was invisible, he obviously knew she was there, striding towards the corner where he had left her. She tried to shuffle away from him, her chair creaking noisily.

"It seems you have woken my dear." He said in false geniality, his voice sounding from an age of aristocrats long past. "If it makes you feel better you may stay as you are, it will not bother me. I came to inform you that your stay here is drawing to a close! That should cheer you up, correct? I will escort you via an arriving helicopter to my facility. All plans have been made, and preparations for you are complete!"

She kept her lips pressed tightly together, her heart hammering mercilessly against the cage of her ribs. Burning questions raced through her mind, but she dared not give voice to any of them.

"What's the matter? After all the trouble I have gone through I would have at least expected a thank you. Or is it you are upset by the circumstances of your capture?" When again she did not answer, his face twisted into a horrific scowl. He reached out, into the blank space before him, and somehow found a handful of her hair and jerked her forward. Olivia whined in pain, straining against his grasp as he leaned in close to her squirming form. "You are to be the catalyst of greatness, child, and it is only at my whim that you will do so in comfort or suffer abysmally. You would do well to learn gratitude. Now, I believe you owe me thanks!"

"Go to hell." She whispered defiantly without looking at him, surprised at her own boldness. She had always been meek and gentle. Even when those boys had raped her, she didn't even scream she had been in such shock, but now, this moment, after enduring so much abuse she didn't want to give any man an inch of leverage over her if she had anything to say about it.

He smirked and let her go, slowly straightening to his full height.

"You, child, are going to suffer greatly for such insolence."

He had left after that, and the beast with him returned to his sentry duties, leaving her there to contemplate her future. He hadn't revealed much to her about what he meant to do to her, only that, thanks to her mouth, it wouldn't be an easy experience to endure. She could hardly endure the knowledge left with her. After trying to survive these last three months without warmth or affection, usually starving, left with intrusive returning memories of the fateful night of her mutation, how could she endure more?

Please God, I know you will not let me go through anything I can't endure, but I just don't know how much more I can take! Olivia prayed, her eyes squeezed so tightly shut that even her tears had trouble finding a gap to escape! Her hands tightened into fists and bowed her head deeply, pleading, I can't go on this way, I feel like I'm going to shatter under the pressure! Please give me strength, some means of deliverance, something to help me before I break!

With sharp suddenness, the door to her small room burst open, admitting a stranger.

Startled from her pleas to a higher power, she held her breath and grew perfectly still. At first, the man looked like he had expected to fight, but when he saw no one inside, he lowered his hands which were split between the knuckles with what looked like long knives! She felt her eyes grow wide, studying those hands from afar. Could they really be coming out of his body like that? His nostrils flared, the man smelling the air as he wandered into the center of the room. From this distance, she could see that indeed, those blades were very deeply imbedded between the hollows of his knuckles, but he didn't seem to be distracted by the pain, if he was experiencing any at all.

Satisfied that her eyes were not deceiving her, they wandered to the rest of him, wondering if he was working for that devil that had come in earlier. He was gruff looking, tall , and dressed simply in a pair of jeans, a white wife beater, and a belt and buckle that separated the two. Dog tags hung around his neck, glinting in the dim light. With bated breath her eyes followed his shoulders, which were broad and powerful, and from them were attached equally impressive arms wrapped in taut bulging muscles. A dusting of masculine hair peaked from the neckline of his shirt and peppered his arms, but the hair on his head and face was the thickest. Sleek mutton chops framed his strong square jaw, which seamlessly merged into his dark hair as it oddly swept back on each side of his head.

Olivia felt a strange fluttering as she watched him, but still said nothing as his eyes roamed the room, assumingly to search for her. After all, she was still not sure why he was here and maybe he was going to drag her off to her promised suffering. Her best bet was to keep quiet and wait the moment out.

Then, at the barest of movements from her, his head snapped in her direction, eyes almost perfectly locking to her own, but that just wasn't possible! She was invisible, he shouldn't have any incling as to where she was!

"I ain't gonna hurt you kid." came his warm gravely voice, his hands moving up above his head non threateningly as the knives slid back into his body.

She wanted to believe him, but somehow she just couldn't.

"Olivia, I'm here to get you out of here, you don't want to be in this place right?"

The shock that this man knew her name was short lived, dwarfed by the sound of the beasts footsteps approaching from down the hall. Where as before her nervousness with this man had been reserved, now the fear was bubbling to a boil inside of her. He noticed the sound too, and he began to look agitated.

She wasn't able to hold her breath any longer, and she let out the stale air with a little gasp. He expertly detected her exact position from that small noise and came towards her. She tensed, shaking again with each step he took, but instead of hands reaching out for her, he simply knelt, eyes searching the space he knew she occupied but unable to locate her. Being safely out of his sight, she studied his face at this close proximity. There was a hardness to his features telling of years of hardships, but the way he spoke and the warmth in his dark eyes soothed away any of the reserve she had for the beautiful stranger.

As those footsteps grew closer however, she could see that softness fading into urgency, a tightness in his jaw as he spoke this time, "I want to help you kid, but I can't do that if you don't let me!" And his hand lifted, brushing her shoulder with his warm palm. It wandered the skin a moment, introducing a newer and stronger flutter to her belly, before his massive hand closed loosely around her shoulder and coaxed her to stand. Met with dead weight, she saw the revelation in his eyes. He moved his grasp and it came into contact with the invisable ropes. The frown that resulted darkened his face considerably. "Can you stand?"

She held back from answering a moment, knowing that this was the moment she had to decide whether or not she would entrust him with her life. Seeing that it was between trusting him and trusting the beast and the vampire man, the choice was very clear.  
Her voice broke when she whispered, "No, I'm on a chair."

There was a glimmer of empathy in those midnight eyes of his and she was moved by that slight bit of tenderness, but the sound of the best quickly approaching cut the moment short.

He stood, and turned his muscled back to her to face what was about to come. He couldn't possibly mean to fight the beast that had abducted her, could he?! It was enormous, feral, and anxiously, she began to strain against her bonds in hopes that if she got loose by some miracle that they could just leave! Then knives shot out of him, like the claws of a cornered animal ready to fight his way through whatever stood in his way! When the creature appeared and roared over the much smaller man, her would be savior bellowed wildly right back, much to her amazement.

It was then the fight began, moving so quickly that Olivia had a hard time following the quick succession of blows! Before she knew it, the much smaller man was on its back mercilessly digging pounds of flesh and blood out of his opponent! Her ears hurt from the pitch of the screams the beast produced at this torment, and for a moment, Olivia thought maybe this man could win and really take her out of this place!

Those hopes were shattered before her eyes when the creature began to crush her savior into the wall! Over and over again with such force the whole room shook, the man was squashed into the buckling wall! He screamed, oh god he screamed and she wanted to get to him to make this thing stop hurting him! He had only been here to help her, he had tried to save her, and she was so distrustful that she couldn't just let him! Now they were both going to die! She bent over and cried as he was at last allowed to slump to the floor, twitching and broken. She wished that he could just be put out of his misery instead of wallowing there smooshed, but as each moment slipped into the past, something became very obvious. Both feral men were healing! The skin and flesh on both the creatures back and her hero was slowly but surely closing! Exhausted, the animal just remained on all fours, waiting for itself to be back in fighting shape. The man she had thought to certainly be at deaths door, was actually getting up, popping vertebrae and bones back into their places as he steadied himself! She could only stare, utterly stunned.

He looked like nothing had happened to him at all, and she listened dumbly as he called to her, "Hey kid, if you can concentrate on getting yourself visible that'd be great! Kinda hard to rescue ya if I can't see ya!"

She quickly she obeyed, squinting her eyes closed so she could block out what was going on and do as was asked of her. It wasn't an easy task by any means. Despite her countless hours clocked in trying to learn how to control it effectively, her invisibility was as hard to lift as a concrete slab! Perspiration gathered on her forehead and temples, concentrating and willing the veil to shift. The familiar ache began to move into her joints and down the marrow of her bones until it burned like fire! She clenched her teeth, tears forming in the corner of her eyes. Slowly, she began to fluctuate back into view. A heavy impact to her left almost distracted her, pained sounds begging her to open her eyes, but she was too close to her goal! She soldiered on, keeping her eyes closed, and felt a ripple of pain in her center that spread out into all of her limbs. Almost, almost there, and then she exhaled in relief, knowing she was within sight. She looked to her lap to be absolutely sure. Seeing her favorite pair of jeans, worn and comfy in her sights, she smiled. She'd done it!

Her eyes lifted up in time to see the man with his claws buried deep in her prison keepers throat only for a second later to have the head guillotined completely off! She had never seen anything so grotesque! The thing shuddered as its life left it, and slumped to the floor in a heap. Its executioner didn't look like it had gotten to this point unscathed either, and he seemed to remain in that spot with his back turned for several tense seconds. She could make out the blood on his face, a glint of metal beneath it, but largely he concealed the wound from her, apparently sensitive to her witnessing his injuries.

After a short time, the wound seemed to vanish, and he shook his head brusquely as though to toss away the last remnants of sensation of it. He then turned back to her as well as ever and looking pleased that he could see her. Blood slowly oozed down his claws, and splatters of it stained his wife beater.

She quivered, watching him like a cornered rodent watched the cat hunting it. It was just the two of them now and suddenly being alone with him triggered something unsettling in her mind and body, something too powerful for her to ignore. Her empty stomach turned over on itself remembering all too swiftly just how devastating an advancing man could become! Even without mutant powers, men could hurt, impale, and destroy for their own pleasures. The rational part of her mind didn't think this man would do that to her, but the surging memories fueled only instinct and learned fear overpowered it easily. More wet tears trickled down her face and her body trembled again.

"Easy kid." He said, holding up his hands once again. "I'm going to cut you loose, then we're going to make a run for my bike. I'm going to take you somewhere safe where these guys won't be able to reach you."

He was moving in to cut the ropes off of her when his eyes met hers. She didn't need to wonder why. Her eyes were an unusual color, and it was usually those eyes that made people back away suspiciously, calling her a mutie and much more profane words. This man didn't seemed bothered by them, much to her relief. In fact, she swore she saw the corners of his mouth dart up on one side in a very handsome smirk. For a moment she was flattered that he seemed to like them, but then his eyes wandered her. It was a brief overview, but it was an action decidedly male in nature, especially with how his dark eyes settled on her ample chest for a split second.

Her entire body became rock hard with tension, but he moved to the back of the chair and expertly sliced away the ropes that fastened her to the chair. The sensation started to return painfully to her hands as she brought them to grasp the seat, glad for the discomfort that distracted her slightly from the uncomfortable moment she found herself in. He didn't look very pleased at her refusal to move.

His voice was rough as he scolded, "Look, I know you've gone through hell and I'm a big scary guy who just got pretty bloody, but you need to focus on getting the hell out of here, you hear me kid?" She frowned deeper, feeling badly about her distrust when she knew he was trying to help, but she just couldn't bring herself to answer. "Is it these?" He asked, holding up his hand as he retracted the claws. She shook her head in the negative. "Is it that?" He pried, gesturing to the dead beast in the room.

Again, she shook her head, her silky brown hair falling in her face to her her shame. How could she tell him what was wrong? To tell a man who had come in here and fought like a lion to free her that she was afraid of something that had probably not even crossed his mind? She knew how paranoid her fears were as she had to deal with them every day, but to explain them to someone else without sounding accusing or pathetically irrational was utterly impossible!

She flinched when he growled, obviously loosing patience with her. "Well if it ain't me rippin some guy apart in front of you, then why won't you let me-" He stopped suddenly, eyes getting just a bit wider as he realized what the problem was. He made a soft groan of self deprecation before gently asking, "Is it because I'm a man?"

How had he known? Was her misery and fear so transparent? He had known her name though, so maybe someone had sent him for her, but how they had known was a mystery to her. Her tear soaked lashes came to rest against her cheeks as her chest shuddered with breath, more warm tears marking paths down her face. She nodded, and his expression turned compassionate.  
"I promise I won't touch you, not even to lead you out of here, unless you give me the okay." He said reassuringly, putting his open hand between them for her to take.

She eyed the palm and slightly curled fingers, debating inwardly what she could do. She could put her hand in his, go with him, and see where that path took her, or she could stay and let that madman torture her and bring her to a new appreciation of pain. Her eyes drifted from his warm brown eyes to that hand. He had arrived here while she was praying to God for a savior. Had her prayers been answered through him? The choice now seemed clear.

"Come on kid," He urged, "You can trust me."

She knew in that moment, as the circumstances of this meeting became clear, that she did trust him, and when he asked her if she believed her, she found it easy to nod in the affirmative.

"Then take my hand and let me get you out of here."

Her hand left her side and eased into his. It was warm and strong, and a second passed before her grip tightened on his firmly and faithfully. His digits closed around hers, like iron bars that not only surrounded her hand, but the rest of her as well. She was amazed to find that he made her feel safe.

"Thata girl." he murmured proudly, glad that they could finally get going.

Her heart gave a tiny leap, and she smiled back at him docilely.

With a satisfied nod he stood with her, the chair giving a groan as the weight left it. He was easily a foot taller than her and standing this close she could smell him. It was a musky mix of smoke, pine and rain, a smell that she committed to memory with innocent reverence.

"Stay close to me, Liv," He said as he helped her over the hairy victim of his claws. His large hands went to her waist and hoisted her weightlessly over it. She squeaked in surprise, amazed at how effortless moving her was to him! He continued, "If we run across trouble, stay behind me and out of the way. Otherwise, I want you right here." His hand grabbed hers again and she understood his meaning clearly. She held his hand tight and followed him into the unknown.

He went to the door, stopping there and sniffing the air. He huffed, finding that all he could make out was the damned black mold and the corpse in the room. At least the brown sugar vanilla scent that clung to Olivia made the sniff of air slightly more pleasant. He peaked his head past the door. No one was there. He moved quickly, leading her confidently.

"Hurry, ole' pasty face probably isn't far." He hurried to the door that led to the stairs and paused, his brow scrunched as he heard the approaching whip of a helicopters blades. Olivia, a few seconds later, heard it too.

She swallowed the dryness in her throat and after a moment to gather her courage, she spoke at last, breaking her self imposed silence. "He said he was going to take me in a helicopter some place."

He opened the door to the stairway. "Fancy that, you actually have a voice!" He teased with a roguish smirk. He stole a glance her way. "You should do it more often."

She found her face feeling just a bit hot at his playfulness, put at least partially at ease by his light tone. She murmured a shy thank you.

"Guess I got here in the nick of time." He remarked, thoughtless as to how unnerving his words would be to her. "A few minutes later and you mighta been gone, kid."

And just like that, the ease was undone.

She didn't want to think of how true his words were. Just before he had arrived she'd been face to face with the most terrifying man she had seen in her life! If he hadn't come when he did, she would be being led to that helicopter and far removed from the man who had come for her. Just to reassure herself that she was going to be okay, she clutched his hand a bit tighter. All what ifs aside, he was here now, and he had said he would take her some place safe.

He stepped out the door and glared agitatedly at the rickety staircase. "Shit." He muttered as he looked down at them. Was it normal to feel mocked by an inanimate object?

"What's wrong?" She asked trepeditiously. She searched for the problem, worrying that maybe someone was coming that would further delay their escape.

"These stairs won't support my weight," He grunted, "never mind both of us." He let go of her hand, and gave her a nudge forward. "Hurry down as fast as you can. We're gonna have to make a run for it once we're down there."

She took two steps forward at his urging, but she felt far less sure about his command the closer she got to the stairs. What if something came to meet her once she was at the bottom? What if that scary man came back while they were separated and he took her to the helicopter?

"Olivia, trust me, I'm not gonna let anything happen to you." He said firmly, "Just get down the damn stairs and make it quick! We don't have time!"

Apprehension vanished quickly and she obeyed without letting her mind dwell any further on it, scrambling down the creaking metal stairs until she was at the bottom. No sooner had she left the last stair did she heard the staircase give a mighty groan of protest.

She turned in time to see it crashing down, taking Logan with it!


	3. Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan and Olivia make their escape and begin the long trek back to the mansion but not without obstacles. Her powers are more complicated than first thought and her trauma becomes more evident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot I was uploading this story here- I have many chapters done so I will try and update this more regularly. I'm sorry for the wait if anyone's still reading <3

Logan stared up at the ware house ceiling, sprawled across the bent and broken ruins of the rusted stair case. The fall hadn't been that bad, hell, he'd fallen from worse heights and lived before, but the twisted metal that had 'cushioned' his fall was far from comfortable.

"Well that was easy." He lied, groaning as he began to sit up. "Piece of cake!" He staggered, catching himself against the wall.

Olivia let out a breath of relief to see him rise from the rubble, the tension slowly releasing from her stress bound body. "Sir, if I hadn't seen you heal from being crushed already, I would have thought you were going to die. Are you alright?" Her voice shook as she walked back towards him, offering him a hand to help steady him. "You should be careful, all of these battles and falls can't be good for you."

"Heh, it's cute of you to worry," He rumbled with a chuckle, only using her to help right himself for a moment before he was fully healed, "But I haven't come across anything yet that can keep me down for long."

It was cute of her to worry? Cute? That was oddly condescending considering she had only been concerned for his safety. If only she had the nerve to tell him so, but her gratitude for him helping her escape overshadowed his rudeness. She ignored it and moved on.

"-and don't call me 'Sir', kiddo. I'm not a damn aristocrat." He took her hand again, pulling her down the hallway.

No kidding, she thought saucily. Aristocrats have manners.

Despite the reprimand in her thoughts, she once more felt comforted by the pressure of his hand taking hers. Okay, so he was rough around the edges, but he was her liberation. He deserved her gratitude, and what was more, had her admiration.

"You could tell me your name? You have me at a disadvantage knowing mine, which by the way, I'd like to know how you do-"

He suddenly stopped, jerking her behind him and pressing his muscled back to sandwich her protectively between himself and the wall. His black eyes were focused and alert, nose twitching as he detected something beyond in the main ware house that she did not. Her free hand rose, grasping the fabric of his shirt and twisting it worriedly in her fist.

Olivia jumped against him as a tomcat scurried past, and he relaxed, face calmed and watching the animal a moment with a sense of camaraderie. It was but a second of time, but it was gentle, and Olivia found the ever expanding repertoire of this man utterly mystifying.

"Logan." He answered, going back to their previous conversation as though the interruption had never taken place. "I know your name because I read your mutant registry file."

Her expression plummeted, and she quieted again. How he had gotten her registry file was of less concern to her than the fact that he had seen its contents. That could only mean that he knew about those boys from her school and what they had done to her, which -looking back- made sense considering he had pieced together why she'd had trouble letting herself go with him in the first place. That information was private to her though, and she hated that he knew. No, no that wasn't it, was it. She hated that she wasn't the pure unadulterated girl she had once been, that every relationship for the rest of her life with any man -friend or otherwise- would be sullied by the fact she lacked purity. Every hole had been invaded and sullied, every inch of skin burned with their eyes and touch! There was not a single corner of her that she could offer chastely to her future lover and husband. That was what she hated. The initial stirrings of attraction she had already felt for Logan were extinguished like the smoldering butt of a cigarette beneath the grinding of a boot. He knew she was used up. What use was it entertaining a fantasy predestined to be unrequited. She stole a soulful glance at him as he surveyed the main expanse of the sawmill. No, a man like him wouldn't bother with a stray girl like her. With that, she tried to push it from her mind. Friendship might still be an attainable goal.

The helicopter blades were growing deafening by this point, and once more, they were making a dash to the exit. Her inquisitive gaze didn't miss the claw marks that had ruined the lock and forced the door open. As she kicked the wood chips from her boots, she saw that even the doorknob hadn't escaped, and lay in pieces at their feet.

"Subtle." She muttered sarcastically.

He countered with an equally sarcastic, "Thanks!" Logan was apparently not known for his tack.

It took only a glance to see that the helicopter was landing on the very building they were in, and they were going to have to move very fast to get to his bike and out of the area unseen. Logan had already discovered that Olivia lacked any real physical stamina and just for the jaunt through the sawmill he had to slow himself down substantially just to be sure he wouldn't be dragging her behind him. He made a mental note that if she stayed at Xaviers school after this whole ordeal, he'd see to it that he changed that. In the mean time however, he'd have to continue to move at her pace.

He pointed past the building they were facing to the next one down, rubbing his thumb reassuring over the back of her hand. Olivia's chest gave a blissful flitter, and she innocently returned the gesture.

"That's where my bike is, you ready?" Logan said tugging her a little closer along side him.

Her eyes were drawn to the smouldering sun, only a few short minutes away from embracing the crest of the horizon. Her violet eyes began to grow a little brighter now that they were outside, luminous in the dimming light. Her brow lowered skeptically.

"The sun's going down." She said quietly.

Logan looked down at her, eyes drawn to her brightening violet orbs. "Yeah? And?"

She took a deep breath, nodding. "We need to hurry then. I disappear when the sun goes down."

He had to fight to keep a groan from leaving his mouth. Compounded with everything else, having to handle her while she was invisible was going to just make this more challenging. Yes, he loved a challenge, but liking a good well matched scrap was different than this. Rubbing his face briefly at this revelation, he focused on calming down.

"Okay kid, I've heard of weirder." He admitted as they started to make their way as fast as they could through the vacant lots. "Anything else you feel like telling me?"

"I won't be visible again until morning, and only if I see the sun rise. Otherwise I stay gone until I do see one." She hurried to keep up with him but was quickly becoming winded. On top of it, she felt like a burden. "Logan, I'm sorry, I know this complicates things!"  
"Don't apologize, you can't control it yet." He led her around the corner of the building. Beyond the next corner his bike was hiding. "Least I know what to expect. There she is!" He called when he saw his Harley there waiting for them, the waxed black body looking sleek and wet in the waning light.

Even breathless from running and anxiety, Olivia managed an appreciative coo over Logans machine, the small shy girl suddenly vanishing into something more enthusiastic. She stroked the chrome and fawned over every detail as he hastily moved his duffel off the bitch seat and to the back.

Amused, he smirked and asked, "So you do ride?"

"A little. Admittedly the bike wasn't mine, but I used to love helping out my cousin Travis with his bike, it was cherry red and an older model so it needed a lot of maintenance and repairs, but they were good times." She got into the bitch seat as though she were slipping onto a throne, her expression warm with affection as she reminisced. "You always see the best things when out on a bike, and you experience the world so differently. You feel, smell, and taste wherever you go, all of your senses are engaged in the experience. It's freedom."

Logan waited a moment to get on the bike in front of her, his interest captured by the way she spoke of her memories on a bike. Maybe her rides were shorter lived than the long jaunts he tended to go on, but she knew the spirit of the road, and that was a language he understood. He handed her the helmet, which she promptly strapped on.

The bike bobbed heavily as he got on in front of her, smiling to himself. "I hear ya, kid. There's nothing like the pull of the road." He reached behind him, taking her wrist and bringing it around him so she'd have something to hold on to. Of course it never hurt that it was the touch of a pretty passenger. Odd how his opinion of her had gone from average and plain to pretty over the course of a only, maybe, half an hour.

AS her fingers crept around his muscled torso, she spoke, hoping to keep the blush out of her voice. "We'd go for some amazing rides afterwards. He got me these!" She lifted her scuffed and worn boots proudly.

"Looks like they're well loved! Good girl!" He jabbed the keys into the ignition and turned.

"The suspension on this thing is unreal!" She called over the roar of the igniting motor.

"It has to be, my skeleton is metal and a normal suspension system would just ruin the bike after carrying all my weight."

"Metal? Is that why the stairs gave out on you?"

"Naw, I had a big lunch. The meatball sub probably pushed it over the edge."

She actually laughed, and Logan couldn't help but think that the sound was soothingly musical. He patted her hand as the bike began to move. "Hold on tight, I think the speed limit is more of a suggestion!"

Again, she laughed, and he swore he felt her grin on the back of his head as she scooted a bit closer, both arms circling him and holding firm. With a bellow the bike pounced forward like a cheetah down the road, quickly leaving the warehouse prison behind them.

As they drove off, Olivia dared to turn her head back to the cluster of buildings they retreated from. Holding onto Logan like an anchor, it was strange but it felt as though she were waking up from a bad dream. She still felt the weight of the past three months of fending for herself, of being hungry and struggling to survive, but the fear of facing abduction and the suffering that man had promised paled. She'd seen what Logan could do, what he had done to help her and what he could survive. She didn't know how long he'd be with her, if this was some strange line of work and he'd be on to the next at some point, but for now, she felt safe for the first time since that fateful evening she mutated. Her grasp on him tightened and she rested her head between his shoulder blades. She wanted to enjoy the feeling for as long as she had it.

Logan felt her embrace him, and a gentle smile shifted his muttonchops. That poor kid had been through the wringer. Of course, having to face Nathaniel Essex on any level was intimidating, but knowing even vaguely that she'd been out there fending for herself, ousted by her family after being abused, he felt a deep whell of sympathy for the trauma she must have endured. Now that she was out of immediate danger and could relax a bit, he wasn't surprised that she was communicating her gratitude this way. It was sincere and effective, and begged to be returned. He patted her knee before giving it a little squeeze. Damn that soft spot, Xavier and all of his charity was wearing him down. As the circle of her arms held him a bit more firmly, he decided maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
Logan hadn't been kidding when he said he viewed the speed limit as a suggestion. With the throttle thrown open Logan bulleted that bike towards the I-87 like hell was on their heels, and all Olivia could do was hold on tight! She would have loved it under any other circumstances. She would have enjoyed being on this magnificent machine with such a fearless man at the helm and taken it all in like a savory morsel of chocolate, but her eyes were worriedly drawn towards the horizon. The velvet darkness was encroaching upon the last colorful shards of daylight, the last sliver of golden sun only precious seconds away from vanishing. She'd been feeling the taut pull of it deep in her bones. The waning light seemed to tug something right out of her, something that she somehow needed, and it always left her in the same state; in a cloak of invisibility that no amount of straining and will power could lift. The worst was about to come, the beginning pangs starting to make her shake.

"Logan!" She called over the ripping noise of the bike, unable to take the flux of the transition any longer. "Logan, pull over!"

He'd been enjoying the ride so far. She was a good passenger, knowing when to lean in with the turns, when to hold on tighter and even when it was safe to let go completely and just feel the wind whipping under your risen arms like a bird trying to take flight. On these curvy Adirondack roads, it was important to know. She didn't say much, and he kind of liked that she didn't feel like she had to try and coax conversation out of him. After all, being on the road wasn't about gabbing, that's why the engine was so loud. So when she spoke up about pulling over he didn't hesitate in the least to do so. He slowed, slipped the bike over the white fog line and killed the engine before turning to look back at her.

He blinked in alarm, seeing that his passenger was quaking and fading away. He had been told to expect it, but he hadn't been told that it would hurt her. Her face was twisted up and she was bent forward, hands braced on the seat between her legs.

"Liv, you okay?" He reached out gingerly to the fading helmet shrouding her face and pulled it off her head, marveling that when it was removed from her, it lost its transparency.

"I'm sorry, it just-" She stuttered through her chattering teeth, "-it just hurts when it's this close!"

Her eyes were closed, her head dipped low between her shoulders. The marrow of her bones burned like molten rock, not a single one spared as her body transformed. Logan's eyes glanced to the setting sun and then back to her, as by the second, she became less and less visible. It didn't take a genius to realize that she had wanted him to pull over because this jarring transition may have made her teeter off the moving bike. He sighed, nodding to himself in understanding and reached out to put an arm around her shoulders. It sucked being a young mutant. She lifted her chin to look up at him, vague lines of her body still visible but those purple eyes shining as vividly as the colorful sky of the encroaching twilight above. Like twin stars in her face, his eyes were magnetically drawn to them. Before when he had noticed their color, they simply looked violet. Now, it looked like light was shining behind them. He had the vague sensation that he were embracing a ghost.

"Does it last long?" He asked quietly.

She shook her head in the negative, and forced a barely noticeable smile. She couldn't trust her voice to talk, her body now shaking. A moment later she shuddered violently, a sob disturbing the air as the sun finally vanished. All at once, that mysterious vacuum within her body finished, and the burning pain became a memory. She was gone completely now, but Logan could hear the relief in the next breaths she took. He smiled, glad it was over.

"Better?"

"Yeah, much. It doesn't last long. It's weird, like suction, and it burns, but then as soon as the suns completely down it's over and I feel fine. Invisible, but fine."

"Good. It does get easier, you just have to figure out how your powers work." He handed the helmet back to her, which disappeared as she took it. It was interesting that it would, but not the entire bike. It was worth exploring once they got to the school. "You know, I'm taking you to a 'Xaviers school for Gifted Youngsters'. It's a a place for people like you and me, Mutants, where you can get instruction, an education, and help controlling your powers and find your place in the world. Sound like something you're interested in?"

There was a moment of silence as Olivia took that in. It sounded too good too be true. "I'll have to know more. Would I see you there?"

"I instruct there, mostly training, self defense, and some other stuff."

"You don't strike me as a 'teacher'." She teased with a laugh on her words. He turned around to get back to the bike and she put her arms around him. It was weird to feel her shift her weight in her seat and hold onto him without being able to see her.

"Yeah well, I dunno exactly how I got pulled into it." He started the engine again, but paused when he felt her tug his shirt a couple times. "Something wrong?"

"How far away is this place?" She asked.

He glanced to the sign ahead. They were headed for I 87 South to take them down the New York border, past Albany and into Westchester, but they wouldn't reach that for a while yet. He replied, "Six hours at least."

She groaned a little and though she said nothing Logan figured it out relatively quickly.

"Tired?"

"Yeah." There was a pause. "And...I'm starving." She hated to give voice to this after all he had done for her already. "I don't have any money."

He squeezed her knee reassuringly again, glancing at the deceptively empty space behind him.

"I've got ya covered, Liv." When her hand slipped over his and squeezed it in reply, he added, "There's not much by way of stops around here, but I've traveled these parts enough to know of a place. It's not all that nice-"

"I'm not picky." She interrupted quickly, "Really, I'm not, I'm just spent."

"Alright then. There's a roadside pub I hit from time to time on the weekends, and they've got a couple rooms they rent out up above it. It's usually for hookups and drunks who can't drive home, but I've been known to stay over there. It's about 20 minutes. Can you hang on till then?"

She nodded, her head resting on his back again so that he could feel her response.

"Alright kid," He called over the bike as it moved forward again. "Just don't fall asleep on me."

There were a few moments in that short drive where he thought she just might. She'd drowsily sway a bit to the side, catch herself, and hold on to him tighter. He could tell it was hard for her, the needs of her body more demanding than sheer power of will. When he pulled over at the roadside dive, her sigh of relief was audible even over the rumble of the bike.

"Thank goodness." she breathed as he pocketed his keys and got up, the suspension of the bike making it shoot up a couple inches without the burden of his weight. She laughed a bit, feeling herself bounce upwards with it before she got down.

Placing the helmet on the seat as Logan unstrapped his duffel bag, she looked around. The driveway was dirt and in desperate need of regrating, peppered with cigarette butts and a few empty and broken beer bottles. Neon beer signs hung in the front windows below old drawstring blinds and despite New York states law against smoking in public places, she could smell the potent tobacco and cigar smoke from here. The roof was missing shingles, and the siding bore old paint that was chipping away. She frowned. She had said she wasn't picky, and truth be told, she wasn't, but she had never been into a bar before.

"It looks like a rough place." She said as some country music began spilling out of the building.

Logan tugged his jacket on, effectively hiding the blood stains and tears in his shirt from the fight earlier. He looked at the place, considering her words.

"Looks can be deceiving." He said with a shrug of his broad shoulders. He began to make his way to the porch, and she followed close behind. He didn't need to look back to know where she was. He'd had her scent in his nose long enough to know exactly where she was now.

He brushed the low hanging bulb and the surrounding moths out of his way before he pulled the door of the bar open, pretending to check his bag for something there in the doorway to allow her time to squeeze in. He pulled a cell phone out of the bag and shoved it into his back pocket. He'd have to call the Professor and let him know how it went.

Inside, Olivia found herself having a hard time breathing and choked a little bit on those first few breaths, but no one seemed to notice her unseen struggle. No one but Logan that is, who just smirked at her reaction as he lifted a cigar to chew between his teeth. People who didn't smoke didn't understand the need to do it, and he'd always found those little 'virgin lung' coughs amusing.

The place itself was what one would expect of a bar. A few scattered tables and chairs, some booths, and a line of stools waiting to be filled in front of the polished counter of the bar itself. There was a jukebox playing Big n Rich in the corner, a woman in a sundress who'd had a bit too much liqueur swaying off tempo to the beat. It made Olivia cringe.

Almost instantly, a waitress was there with a lighter in front of Logans face, her vivid green eyes twinkling mischievously into his own. She had long toned legs and shorts that were as short as she could get them and riding so low on her waist that Olivia could see her red g-string! A black t-shirt advertising Guinness was tied in a knot to show of the crease of her abdomen and the perfect swell of her large womanly breasts. Her carrot top hair was perfectly curled, and her smirking lips were painted crimson.

"Hey there, Logan," She flirted shamelessly, rolling her hips as she shifted her weight from one sandal clad foot to the other, "It's been way too long and I was starting to wonder when you'd be back here." She batted her lashes as Logan puffed his cigar to life on the offered flame. Olivia just stared awkwardly, glad for once to be invisible.

"I toldja I come through here often enough, Laura." He straightened and blew out a curl of smoke. "Just gotta be patient and be around when it happens."

"Or you could let me know when it happens?" She offered, patting a pocket on her shorts where her own cell phone was half concealed. The pocket honestly wasn't deep enough to fit it with the shorts being so scanty. "So I can make sure to be around?"

"Or I could find another bar to waste time in, and tell your old man that you're still trying to shack up with me." He glared down at her, mildly anoyed but taking it in stride.

"Logan, you're horrible!" She chirped with a smile, utterly oblivious to Logans cues to be left alone! "Dad will be glad to see you! If you're in town long we could tell ya where some good matches are going to be held. They've been moving them to a different place each weekend to try and stay ahead of the cops. They keep trying to shut them down."

"There's a reason they're illegal kiddo." He reminded her, but his eyes betrayed that the offer appealed to him.

She nudged him with her shoulder, murmuring, "Yeah, I know, people like you, right?"

"Damn right. Where's the old man? I need a room and some grub to take up."

The redhead looked around, then pointed to the far end of the bar. "Right over there! See you Logan, I have some orders to take!"

The woman hurried to a table past him, her voice carrying over the bustle of the bar even as Olivia followed Logan to the other end of the room. She was overwhelmed by the small snippets of information she had gotten from the exchange. Matches that the cops are trying to shut down? What kind of matches would Logan possibly be into? Dog fighting? Cock fighting? None of them sat well with her at all. She thought Logan worked at a school, like a PE teacher or something, but obviously there was a lot more than that to him. She brushed her hand by his, just needing the connection to help settle her, when he hooked his pinkie into her finger and squeezed. She took a breath, counted to 8, and relaxed. She needed to not jump to conclusions. After all, she had seem how he had reacted to the cat that had crossed their path in the warehouse. It was hard to imagine he'd take pleasure from the suffering of any animal.

There was a big man leaning against the bar, his broad shoulders and beer belly tightly wrapped in a t-shirt. His red hair was thinning and balding, but he proudly donned his long hair in a braid at the back of his neck. He wore an old Levis jean jacket and jeans that were stained and stank of oil. His red mustache twitched around his mouth as it formed at smile at seeing Logan!

"The Wolverine! Damn good to see you Logan!" Their hands met in a firm clap and a vigorous handshake resulted, "Here for a few cage matches?"

"Naw, just passing through this time Doug." Logan said with a shrug. "Just need a room for the night, two beds if ya got it."

Doug looked around suspiciously, expecting to see someone else with him. He looked right at Olivia, but being invisible, couldn't put the situation together. Her pinkie curled tighter on Logans finger in thanks.

"Even if you weren't by yourself Logan, you asking for two beds is like a devil asking for a prayer book! It's just plain odd."

Olivia bit her lip to keep from giggling at that. Apparently her guardian was popular with women. She, of course, understood why. Most hot blooded women would be attracted to him.

Logan cleared his throat, and lifted his duffel bag to set on his shoulder.

"Whats so weird about it? Been a long stretch of road and I want some food and sleep."

"-and that usually means a pretty lady and a good fuck!" He laughed and added, "Hell, Jeanette won't shut up about the last time you were in town!"

"She's still around?" He asked, looking mildly embarrassed. "Well damn, not much I can say to that, just want to go get a good snooze."

"With two beds?" He pried.

"Maybe I don't want to put my shit on your nasty floors." Logan said evenly. He really should have thought of a reason to have two beds before walking in here, but it didn't occur to him. He, after all, fought with his fists, not his intellect.

"Fair enough, Logan." Doug conceded with a chuckle, getting up and slipping behind the bar and into the kitchen. He returned with a six pack of Corona. "Here, what'dya want from the chef?"

"Pizza and wings. Honey Mustard this time, not buffalo."

Again, Logans request was met with a funny look, but then a shrug. "Alright boss, you know what you want! But I don't have rooms with two beds."

"It's alright, I'll figure somethin' out." Logan said, looking put off by that news. He thought for a passing second. "A cot?"

"You expectin someone?" One sharp look from the Wolverine told him that it was none of his business, and he held his hands up in surrender! "Okay okay, none of my business! I'll see what I can do for ya. Go on up the stairs and pick out a room. None are booked and they're all unlocked. Just lock the door behind you and hang the tab on the knob so I can record what room you're in."

"Sounds good." His hand left Olivias and took the beer. "Have the food sent up when its done, with a bottle of coke too."

Logan headed to a hallway marked 'restroom' and Olivia stayed close. He rolled his eyes as he passed it, and it took the a few seconds for her to learn why. The door jostled against its hinges, the wet sound of slapping flesh almost drowned out by the pleasured moans and gasps of its occupants. Olivia blushed fiercely, pausing briefly to stare at the closed door. Her own sexual experience had been far different than this couple, the only sounds of pleasure in her memory made from the boys who had taken her. Even now as clear as the day it had happened, she could hear their moans hitching and feel their thrusting growing urgent as they approached their release, and she unable to do anything but wait and accept their filth. She felt sick as she remembered how helpless she had been, how hopelessly overpowered and used. Her empty stomach churned again, but still, she stood there watching and listening to the creak of the hinges. The people behind that door were not having that experience though. She could hear their lips and bodies meeting in union, the octave of enjoyment in their voices. Together, consensual, harmonious...

She envied them bitterly.

Logan paused, hearing that her footsteps had ceased following him. He looked back, nose twitching once. Filtering through the scents of the strangers coupling nearby, he still smelled her there, but why was she stopping at such a scene? It was just a cheap bang in a nasty bar restroom, geez, it was really nothing-

Aw hell. He almost forgot that this kind of scene might be upsetting to her. What'd the professor say it was called when he'd dealt with these things? Something to do with a gun but he couldn't remember the exact phrase.

He shifted where he stood for a second, moving on past his train of thought to the matter at hand, and after a moment to make sure they were alone in the hall, he walked closer to where he detected her scent.

"Is it bothering you?" He asked, not sure how to breach such an uncomfortable subject to someone who was potentially so sensitive to the subject.

"I'm jealous." She confessed in a shamed whisper. She didn't know why she was telling him, only that she somehow could not stop herself. "They don't know how bad that can be. They're so casual with it that they'd subject themselves to the filth of a bathroom to have it..." Her voice got softer, almost cracking. "...and I'm afraid to even think of anyone touching me again, even if it's not supposed to be hell every time. Or not supposed to be hell at all."

Logan listened uncomfortably, feeling the weight of her confession on him like a yoke on a bull. He thought about that with a measure of guilt. No, he'd never lowered himself that far for a bit of release but he'd known men who had. But he had let himself know the comfort of a strange womans arms. Sex had been an avenue of letting the animal out, letting him rut like his instincts wanted, much to the pleasure of the women he bedded. He was good at it, to be blunt, but hearing Olivia speak now made him suddenly reconsider everything. Sex had only been for release, but to her it had been torture. Would she ever heal enough to know about intimacy, the part of love making that had been robbed from her? He wondered for himself suddenly. When was the last time that sex had really meant something to him?

He hesitated, but finally had the courage to ask,"It was your first time they took from you?"

"Yeah." She answered, her voice sounding fragile.

He didn't want to know, but he asked anyway. "How many of em'?"

"Three."

Anger like hot acid crept through his veins, and he clenched his fists. It was bad enough to know sex at it's very worst, but it was another thing entirely that it was all she knew of sex at all. All she knew was being dominated and used, by not one, but three. It was unjust, and it inspired something primal and vengeful in him.

"And the boys who did it to you?"

The silence that resulted said all that had to be. They had gotten away with it. The little bastards had taken this girl and her innocence without any accountability at all.

He understood now why hearing the couple in that room was so distracting and upsetting to her. She couldn't even think of sex without feeling resentment for those who could actually enjoy it, those who didn't know the dark and violent acts she had to endure.

His mood was ruined and he strode to the door with a purpose. He couldn't punish those boys for what he did to her, not yet anyway, but he could punish this couple for not having any respect for what they were doing. A claw shot from between his knuckles and with a well aimed slice, he destroyed the latch of the door. He stepped out of the way in time for the couple to be spilled unceremoniously to the floor, the woman with her skirt around her hips and the man with his pants around his knees. Acting as though he were simply walking by, Logan looked down at them with a risen brow. They scrambled embarrassedly to cover themselves, shameful at being caught in the act, as they should be. Logan just days ago would have just moved on without much care, but today, he found the sight disgusting and was feeling pretty good about exposing them.

He headed to the stairs and was half way up them when he felt a slightly clammy hand close around his.

"Why did you do that?" she asked.

"There's a time and place for acting like that, and a public bathroom ain't the time and place. Maybe they know that now." He puffed his cigar and looked back towards her. "Besides, it was upsetting this nice girl I know."

She felt her face get hot at his words, and she hurried up the stairs behind him.

"Thanks Logan."

"Don't mention it kid."

He was in the hallway, checking out the available rooms. He looked in the four doors and checked out each of the four rooms before he went back to the first he'd seen. He went into that one.

"This one smells the cleanest." He remarked passingly, holding the door open for her. Olivia went inside, not quite sure what she was expecting, but tired and hungry enough not to care.

He set his duffel bag and six pack down on the bed and peaked into the bathroom. It was a shower with a floor drain and no curtain and the sink was old and cracked. It was, however, clean. He gave it a nod of approval before he moved back to the bed and sniffed the sheets. The rest of the room wasn't much. There was an old wooden chair, a bedside table, and a window. The floors were hard wood and in need of being refinished. Again, a nod.

"This'll do."

"I thought you'd been here before." She said, wandering over to sit down on the chair and unzip her boots. She sighed as her feet were released from their bonds. They appeared as she dropped each onto the floor, followed by a pair of hole ridden socks.

He chuckled, "I meant for you, kid." He turned towards her, smelling something shockingly potent. One by one, those socks plopped into view out of seemingly no where. They were burning his sensitive nose with a power that few females could pull off. He wondered how long they'd been on her feet!

He cleared his throat and took the plastic bag out of the trashcan. His claws shot out suddenly into the fabric, and used the tips to safely dispose of them. He then tied the bag in a knot.

Olivia scoffed, "Isn't that a bit overkill?"

"Not with my nose."

She couldn't argue that. From what she'd seen he had the nose of a bloodhound! Sheepishly, she answered, "Sorry."  
"Here," Logan was unzipping his bag, and she watched as he pulled out a tshirt, drawstring pajama pants, a small bottle of shampoo and a bar of soap in a ziplock bag. "I know you're hungry and tired, but it'll be just a bit before the foods up here. Why don't you go get clean, you can change into this." He gathered it all up and handed it in her direction. Gratefully, she accepted, mentally noting that it all smelled like him.

She wanted to head to the shower, to do as he asked, but she hovered there in front of the bed near to him. He'd taken her away from that madman, had sat with her as she turned invisible, got this room and food for her to eat, and was giving her his own clothes to wear. She felt hot tears of gratitude melting her cheeks.

"I ... don't know how to thank you for everything you're doing for me Logan."

The emotion in her voice made his hand shake a little as he rezipped the duffel bag. He also smelled tears again. He'd read her file, yeah, and he thought he had known what he was getting into, but reading of her abuse and seeing the results of it was incredibly different. He felt like a jerk saying your welcome for just showing her human kindness, so instead, he reached his arm out, caught her shoulder, and gently brought her into his strong protective embrace.

She didn't resist or flinch away from his touch, remembering very well the promise he had made to her when they'd first met. He wouldn't touch her if she didn't want it. Even if he hadn't promised her anything, she had witnessed the man he was and he had earned her trust. Logan wouldn't hurt her. Her arms encircled his ribcage under his jacket, fingertips pressing into the muscled shoulder blades in his back, cheek over his heart. The pressure of her hands were well placed and felt good, drawing a soft rumble from his chest.

"Don't thank me, Liv." He shushed, his hand lifting to stroke her hair as he felt the wetness of tears spreading against his skin in the fabric of his shirt. "I'm going to get you to that school, you'll get help controling your powers... If you're ready to tackle it, we can get you help in dealing with what happened to you. And you don't have to do it by yourself."

"You'll help me?" She asked innocently.

He dared to hold her a little tighter. He had meant the Professor or Jean, other friends that she'd make at the institute who would know how to comfort someone like her, but now that he heard her little plea, he realized he couldn't refuse. Those little hands grasping his shirt, the wetness of her tears on his chest, and knowing she was alone in this world skewered that ever growing soft spot in the Wolverines armor. She had been strong enough to carry this burden by herself for months. She hadn't given in and given up. It showed spirit and vitality, and he'd seen strong feisty glimmers of it already. Yes, he could help her remember who the girl under all of this pain was.

"Yeah,... yeah, I'll help you, Liv" He promised, "If you can put up with me getting impatient and saying the wrong things from time to time that is. I can be an ass."

She laughed through her tears, resulting in a little hiccup as she nodded. Logan would help her, she repeated to herself. Before, knowing she had to do it all alone was too daunting for her fragile soul to bear but now the comfort in knowing that she wasn't alone on this journey gave her courage.

"They call me Wolverine." He said, his fingers combing into her ponytail briefly, "You have a name for yourself?"

Olivia looked up into his smouldering dark eyes, and smiled bravely. The Wolverine. Somehow, she really liked how that sounded. As to his question though, she had thought about it a lot in her time alone. For a while, it wasn't an easy task until one day she was once again stuck outside during sunset. She was between light and darkness, between the seen and the unseen, a human but a ghost. So she had named herself after the cause of her metamorphosis.

Looking up at the Wolverine, she answered him.

"Twilight."


End file.
